Are We There Yet?
by Bineshii
Summary: Trip and T'Pol and their baby take a camping vacation on Vulcan.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **No filthy lucre changed hands.

**Summary: **It's vacation time for our favorite couple on Vulcan.

**Author's note**: Reading the bit about indicator signal colors having different meaning in different cultures in The Lerteiran Chronicles, sparked the idea for this story. Shades of that VOY episode where Tom Paris had to take remedial spacecraft driver's education from an alien, also came to mind. And then, maybe the long reaching shadows of Ricky and Lucy Ricardo having an animated conversation colored my thoughts. For the first time I am submitting a story before all the chapters are finished. I know lots of writers do it that way, but it is a scary concept for me.

**Are We There Yet?**

By Bineshii

Chapter One

"A traffic ticket! On Vulcan?" Trip peered at the screen on the dashboard of the groundcraft camper, as if the squiggly characters would morph into Terran words just be staring at them.

T'Pol silently read the rest of the voluminous fine print typical of Vulcan legal documents and turned to her mate. "You were under the impression that civilized Vulcans do not have traffic rules?" The edges of T'Pol's mouth crinkled and she raised one elegant eyebrow.

"Well, of course I figured all planets with roads had traffic rules! Even Klingons, I suppose. Uh, does this say to insert my credit card. Guess there is a fine, huh?"

"Naturally."

"And points to tarnish on my shiny new Federation Interplanetary Ground and Low Flying Hovercraft Driver's License?"

"That would be only logical, would it not? Did you read the rule book that you had to take a test on? How did you pass the test without knowing traffic light colors on Andoria, Telar, and Vulcan? Or the words for stop and go in each of those languages? Or the road markings for no passing at this point?"

"Okay, okay, I knew that I was not supposed to pass there, but Surak's Butt, T'Pol, there are no other vehicles for a hundred miles out here on this wilderness road accept that researcher who was just creeping along and stopping to examine every damn rock for nasty critters sleeping under it. He must have called in our license number."

"Please do not take the name of our revered planetary hero in vain. No, the researcher probably did not report the violation. He knew he did not have to. The road bed senses violations and reads license numbers."

"Hooray for Vulcan ingenuity." Trip removed his credit card. "How much did that cost?"

"Ten Vulcan credits and the bonding of your first born to a needy inmate of the Vulcan Academy for the Negatively Gifted."

"T'Pol!"

"It was a joke, Trip." T'Pol turned her head so Trip could not see her face crack out of its Vulcan placidity into a shadow of a smile. "Just ten credits. There is no Vulcan Academy for the Negatively Gifted." She turned and gave Trip the once over with her eyes. "Yet."

"And how many points?"

"I do not want to make you a nervous driver."

"How many?"

"Only one out of the ten needed to revoke your license…on four worlds."

"Lovely. You mean I could drive a starship all over the known universe but possibly be banned from driving on all four Federation worlds?"

"Five. Denoblia just joined the Federation. Perhaps six by the end of this month if Betazed finally decides to join. But you have nine points yet. It is not a situation to spend emotional energy on."

"You wanna drive now?"

"No, you need the experience."

"Ya mean you wanna keep YOUR shiny new license clean."

"Trip, I know how to drive on my home world. It is you who needs the practice. You need to learn patience with my people. That researcher was only being thorough about his work."

"Well he can take all the time he wants, he lives longer!"

"Now THAT is a childish and illogical excuse."

Trip pressed down on the acceleration button. "Until we approach the tail pipe of the next plodding Vulcan researcher, we can make up for lost time. Say, what's the speed limit here? Is there one?"

"Pull over."

"No. You had your chance to drive. You declined."

"I said, PULL OVER."

"Okay, okay, T'Pol. You don't have to get all emotional either. Maybe we should just stop for awhile."

"That is the most logical thing you have said all day. Thank you."

Trip sighed and punched deceleration, turned on his directional signal and steered onto one of the many paved resting sidings. He braked smoothly, not wishing to give T'Pol more grist for the angst mill, but also as not wake their baby daughter sleeping in her car seat.

T'Pol unbuckled and without a word stepped over the sehlat and into the rear of their campercraft to check on the baby. She was asleep, so T'Pol opened the food compartment. "Do you wish some refreshment?" she asked, her back to Trip and an edge to her voice.

The sehlat on the floor growled an affirmative. The Human in the driver's seat maintained a stony silence. He lowered the seat back and pulled his ball cap down over his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Suit yourself," clipped T'Pol, while tossing a hunk of processed sehlat nutriberry treat to the pet who deftly caught it and started chewing. She then set a square meal packet in the microwave and set the dial. "Tea?"

"No."

"Coffee?"

"No."

"Water?"

No answer.

"How about I toss you a well aimed hunk of nutriberry treat seasoned with Vulcan angst?"

"T'Pol, just let me rest, okay? Then you can drive."

T'Pol took her meal and went to sit in the front passenger seat again. She ate slowly, watching Trip slumber. Glancing between what she could see of his face under the cap and back at her sleeping child, she felt at peace in spite of her irritation. This was supposed to be a vacation – fun, in Human description – seclusion, in Vulcan words.

Well, it WAS a change from the normal workday schedule. If this vacation would refresh their lives before getting back to the workday schedule, that remained to be seen. Perhaps the rigors and frustrations of Human vacations served the purpose of making one glad to get back to the normal routine? Sometimes the logic of Human culture became clear only after slogging through the less pleasant aspects of it.

Lizi-Les was stirring. Not wanting to waken Trip, T'Pol slipped between the seats and sat beside her daughter. The baby's eyes were wide open but the awakened state had not seemed to register yet. T'Pol waited until the baby's eyes shifted in her direction, then picked her up for a nursing session. Like all mothers, T'Pol had discovered that nursing had a calming intimacy that rivaled that of a good meditation session.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** No filthy lucre changed hands

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Two

When the baby dropped off to sleep again, in her arms, full of milk, head rolling to the side, mouth still round from her sucking efforts, T'Pol gently rocked her. The baby made a couple of sucking motions with her lips in her sleep and smiled. It was hard for T'Pol to break the contentment of the moment, but Trip was stirring and they really should get to the village in the foothills by night fall.

Trip looked back at her, noting the baby was asleep. "She sleeps more than she is awake."

"Of course. She is growing rapidly and that takes most of her energy. A condition common to both Vulcan and Human babies."

Trip's face had that whimsical look that Humans get when they are well rested and somewhat amused. T'Pol rose and placed her daughter back in her car bed and secured the restraint so it would not bind. Her thoughts returned to the miles they had yet to travel. The Vulcan sun was getting lower despite the heat still making waves up off the road bed. T'Pol looked at it rising from the one lane in each direction, the ribbon of road stretching to a horizon as yet unmarked by the foothills. Driving took concentration on these back roads, for slipping a wheel off the road would mean sinking to the axel in hot dry sand.

Now if they had a hovercraft camper, it would not have mattered quite as much. They might stir up some sand to obscure their view, but they could veer back onto the road with no trouble. There had been no hovercraft campers available at the dealership at the time of their vacation. It was a Vulcan holiday, so all had been reserved months ago and this adventure was a spontaneous decision.

"Have you ever met this cousin we are visiting?" asked Trip. He had vacated the driver's seat and was paging through maps on the screen from the front passenger seat.

"Twice," said T'Pol as hunched over in the low-ceilinged camper, she took three steps forward to reach the driver's seat. "She attended my bonding ceremony when I was seven and I attended her Vulcan Science Academy graduation, years later, at her parent's invitation. We played a board game together once, while waiting for the officiant to arrive for my bonding ceremony. I remember my mother scolding me for getting my formal robe dusty because we had set the game board on the ground behind one of the standing stones of the stone circle. They had been looking for us with some concern as we were so intent on the game that we had not heard Koss's clan arrive."

"Naughty Vulcan children." Trip's mouth broke into a smile. "I knew it. I knew Vulcans were not BORN logical and well behaved."

"Why would you ever think that?" T'Pol was truly puzzled. She engaged the ignition and turned the camper onto the road. "You will have innumerable surprises ahead with our own daughter if you are expecting her to display impeccable behavior. Vulcans are born with a natural bent toward logic but it needs nurturing."

"So that's how it works."

T'Pol sighed. Her mind envisioning instructing both husband and daughter, side by side, through the coming years.

The sameness of the landscape was mesmerizing for both of them as the miles rolled away beneath the tires. There were no other vehicles to break the monotony. The Baby woke up. Trip spent a few minutes entertaining her with finger games and making faces. The hum of the tires soon had the baby back to sleep.

The heat started to back off. The shadow of the camper lengthened out ahead of them and tiny dark pimples appeared on the horizon, hazy grey mounds behind them.

T'Pol broke the silence. "The foothills and the mountains. Looks like there might be some moisture, maybe even rain. The mountains are obscured by fog."

"Yes, I see," Trip shaded his eyes with his hand, peering ahead with, then without, sun glasses. "Not sure how to judge the distance though. Because of the thinner atmosphere on Vulcan, my earth atmosphere trained senses misjudge distance. Everything is in sharper focus and seems closer."

"Correct. We are about two hundred miles from those hills."

"I would have said about a hundred. Guess I should just cut in half my first estimates."

"That would be logical."

"Hey, I was logical today!"

"You were logical…once…today."

"Don't spoil my accomplishment. And the day is not over yet," grinned Trip.

Like a watched pot never boils, hills on the horizon don't get larger while you are staring at them. Trip played a Sudoku-like logic game meant for Vulcan children on the navigation screen, occasionally clicking back to the map where he watched the green line of their camper advance. At least that showed some progress. "Hey, I think those pimples on the horizon are now thumb nails."

"They are neither pimples or thumb nails. They are hills."

Silence for a few seconds.

"I knew that."

Silence for another few seconds.

"Really?"

"T'Pol, you are joking again, right? Sometimes I am not sure."

"Sometimes I am not sure either, whether I am joking. You are so exasperatingly Human."

"You finally noticed I was Human? How clever of you. Don't tell any of your Vulcan friends when you introduce me. It might slip their notice and save your good reputation."

"It just might work unless you actually talk to them. I think your Human vocal accent could give you away."

"Right. I will have to work on that."

"We should switch drivers again. The conversation is deteriorating which indicates a lack of concentration on the road."

Trip grinned. "Right you are, as always."

"Of course. I am Vulcan."

"Well maybe not completely right in this instance. I would rather you drove in the hills, especially at night."

"Logical twice today. Quite impressive."

They drove on the flat of the desert for another half hour before the land started to rise into the hills. The road began to snake through the foothills at twilight when the long shadows lost their sharpness, merging into each other. As daylight faded, the road glowed faintly, then more brightly across its surface, so no edging line was needed like on earth. The road was soon a ribbon of neon yellow.

"Just follow the yellow brick road." Trip began to sing off key.

"What?" T'Pol asked, slowing on the latest curve.

"Oh, just another fairytale reference. From a book I plan to read to Lizi sometime."

T'Pol had only taken her eyes off the road long enough to look at Trip in surprise. It was enough. The shadow appeared suddenly and the camper swerved sharply as T'Pol's Vulcan reflexes almost made them miss hitting it.

Almost. The left front of the camper rose as the wheel rolled over something solid and then the back wheel bucked over it too. T'Pol braked and pulled off the road. This was not a siding, so the right front wheel sank into the sand, but just a few inches as only a thin layer of sand covered the rocky ground. The baby woke and sniffled into a sleepy whine.

"Want me to go see?" asked Trip.

"No, I better do it. I can identify Vulcan wildlife better…or Vulcan pets." She grabbed a flashlight from a compartment built into the driver's door, opened the door and shined the light back along the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** no filthy lucre changed hands 

**Note:** The Vulcan village that is the destination of Trip and T'Pol in this story is in a picture by Warcry Network in Startrek online in their image gallery. This was the inspiration for this story. 

**Note:**Uh, Dear Readers, I did not know this story would take off on its own in this direction. It was supposed to be humorous, not tragic as it is becoming. 

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Three

T'Pol slid down out of the camper and took a few steps back along the road. The body of an animal looked dark on top of the glowing road. One leg twitched. The flashlight caught a sparkle on the animal's neck.

"It's a collar, T'Pol," whispered Trip, leaning out of the camper from the driver's seat she had just vacated. "A jeweled collar, looks like. I think we are in trouble."

T'Pol approached the animal from behind its back. She made a wide circle around it, shining the light on its face. "It's a sehlat. Miniature pet breed. It is dying. The eyes are fogged and unseeing. But it hears me. See the ears perk up. But it is lying its ears flat against its head as I get closer. It just exhaled deeply. Stopped moving. It is gone."

"I'm coming over." Trip dropped out of the camper, glancing both ways along the road. He came over to stand by T'Pol, then kicked at a leg with his toe. "Right, I think it is dead." Squatting down he touched it below the knee. No movement. So he put a hand on its chest.

"Careful, Trip. Sometimes they play dead if they think they are outmatched." But she walked behind it and bent down to look closer at the collar and the plate with writing. "Trip," she said in a slightly tremulous voice. "This is a working sehlat. A blind person's helper."

"Like a seeing eye dog? Geez, T'Pol, how unlucky could we get?"

The low purr of a hovercraft motor approached slowly from the direction in which they had been heading. Headlights washed over Trip and T'Pol as they stood over the body of the sehlat in the middle of the road. The noise ceased and a door opened from the bottom like a shuttlecraft's.

"Na'shaya (greetings)," said a tall male figure, stepping out of the hovercraft.

"Na'shaya," returned T'Pol, "Etek pustau sehlat k'sha'-hali (We killed a sehlat with our vehicle)."

The man walked over and stopped short. "Oh, what a shame. This is the missing pet that we have been looking for." He squatted and ran his hand through the fur on the sehlat's back. "It belonged to a blind child. Oh, well, nothing can be done about this. pHow did it happen? Was anyone else hurt?" The man looked up at them with sad eyes, the usual Vulcan veil of emotionlessness brushed aside for a moment.

"No one was hurt. I believe our vehicle is undamaged. We regret being the instrument of this sehlat's death. We grieve with thee." T'Pol looked at the man, letting a touch of emotion show, and then she straightened and waited for him to make the next move.

Trip clasped his hands in front of him and when the man glanced his way said "We grieve with thee. What should we do now?"

The man rose, and looked down at the dead sehlat. I suppose we better get him into the back of my hovercraft so I can take him to his family."

Trip and the Vulcan man were able to pick up the sehlat. T'Pol followed, removing a baby wipe from her pocket to dab at the trickle of blood from the sehlat's mouth which trailed along the road as it was carried. 

The man leaned against his vehicle after they had closed the hatch over the body. Turning his head slightly he asked "will you follow me to the sehlat's owner's home?"

"Certainly," said T'Pol.

The man nodded and proceeded to enter his hovercraft and turn it around. The sad caravan entered the outskirts of a village two turnings up the road. The light from this village of 2000 inhabitants was more mellow than the brightness of a Human town of similar size. Trip marveled at that, since the Vulcan day was so intensely bright, he would have thought the evening lights would be brighter. They were brighter, somewhat, in the larger cities, but here it seemed the people preferred a bluish cast to night lighting. 

The village streets appeared to be cobbled – not square bricks or rounded stones, but large flat five-sided flagstones. They stopped in a street fronted by high walled residences, pulling over as close to the walls as possible. The street was narrow, but two vehicles might be able to pass each other here – if they were careful. 

The Vulcan man got out of the hovercraft and pushed a bell in niche in a wall. The door recessed in the wall opened, blue light spilling out into the street. A woman in a meditation robe inclined her head and stepped aside, so Trip indicated to T'Pol that he would stay with the still sleeping Lizi while she accompanied the man into the home. A few minutes later, two males, a teenager and an adult, came out and removed the sehlat from the hovercraft. After they disappeared back thought the door, T'Pol came out and pantomimed rocking a baby, then gestured for Trip to come inside. 

Trip, carrying Lizi, noted there was a front garden, like at T'Les's house which was now his and T'Pol's. But this was a townhouse, not a suburban one like theirs. They ended up in a sitting room facing this garden, in armless but moderately comfortable chairs. Trip patted the baby as he scanned the half circle of expressionless Vulcan faces. Well, not completely expressionless, kind of waiting and subdued. 

The "We grieve with thee's" were repeated and acknowledged. Trip let T'Pol do all the talking, noting the occasional glances of the Vulcans at the baby. Then the oldest woman spoke to T'Pol, so she took Lizi from Trip and handed her into the woman's slightly shaky arms. Lizi's blanket was pulled back and she was examined closely by several elders. Then nodding, the eldest returned her to T'Pol who returned her to Trip.

_What was that all about_? Asked Trip through the bond. 

_Just normal politeness_, T'Pol answered.

_But these people are not family, not even of your clan_. 

_That does not matter. Every child is inspected_. 

_Okay, when can we leave and meet your cousin?_

_She and her mate have been summoned here._

_Uh oh, is this now a peace negotiation after one clan has harmed another?_

_It would have been in pre-Surak times. Now, it is just expected courtesy. Do not fret, Thy'la. We will be released into the custody of my cousin within the hour and she has prepared a nice dinner for us._

_Released? Are we being…held?_

_Not exactly... but kind of…this is Vulcan! I will explain later!_

_Okay. Just as long as we don't have to bond our first born to someone. _/i

Trip pulled Lizi tighter to his chest as the two who had removed the sehlat from the hovercraft now entered the sitting room carrying it wrapped in a green blanket. They set it in a depression in the center of the room.

T'Pol touched Trip's arm. _Normally, a fire pit. Like a fireplace in a Human house. The center of the house. _

Then a woman came into the room with a child of about six. The boy walked with the flat of one hand lightly touching her robe. There was a tear running down his face. A TEAR! The woman led the child to the fire pit where the child knelt and searched around with his hands until found the sehlet's body. 

"N-o'tu. Mair-n-o'tu (Cold. Extremely cold)," said the boy.

"Rihamau tevakh (verify death)," said the woman gently.

"Tevakh rihamaya (death verified)," the boy responded, his voice, soft but clear. 

Then he laid his head on the green blanket and one muffled sob hushed the remaining undertone of talk in the room. For a few seconds there was absolutely no movement. Then the woman touched the boy's shoulder. He stood and followed her out of the room, again with the flat of his hand lightly on her robe. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:**I liked the word that HopefulRomantic coined: Vulcanesque. So I found a way to use it once in this chapter of my story.

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Four

It was raining when Trip stepped through the garden door and out into the street. The street shone in the lamplight where small puddles had collected in dimples on the surface of the flat paving stones. He covered Lizi's face with the blanket and hunched over her tiny form cradled in one arm, football style – then trotted to the camper door and hurried inside. Hanging the wet blanket on a towel rack, he was pulling another blanket from a drawer under the bed as T'Pol entered the camper. 

"I had no idea it ever rained on Vulcan," he said as he tucked Lizi into her camper bed and secured the traveling belts. 

"Not often, but we do have it," was T'Pol's reply. "Especially in the mountain areas where clouds with moisture have to rise up to get over the mountains. They drop their loads of moisture first, like birds drop their excreta when they start to fly – it lightens their bodies and aids movement."

Trip smiled wearily. "More than I needed to hear, but that image will certainly stick with me. I'm beat. It's been a long day. I have some questions about what went on in there, but they can wait."

"We have dinner waiting. That should perk up your mood a little. But I will inform T'Sari that you and the baby need your rest. I will probably not sleep until tomorrow evening as I have much to catch up with T'Sari on. Also I must learn the local relationships – the clan interactions and balances. That will help us navigate the delicate social structure of a small, tightly woven Vulcan community like this one is."

"How will you tell her I need sleep so it doesn't sound like I am being anti-social?"

I will just say "He is Human."

Trip sat heavily in the passenger seat. "Vulcans get a lot of mileage out of that phrase, don't they?"

"I am taking that as a rhetorical question, but of course we do. We are a people who are efficient with words." 

The drive to T'Sari's residence was short but involved many turnings through narrow streets so that Trip would not be able to find his way back to the blind boy's house if his life depended upon it. He noted with interest, what must be traditional Vulcan architecture. His sister would have been fascinated. That thought woke a pin prick of pain, but he silently mouthed the words, _Lizzie, wherever you are now, I hope you are seeing this with me_. "Vulcanesque Gothic."

_Thy'la, she IS with us . Believe in that, as the Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that there is an afterlife_. Having answered Trip's telepathic thought, T'Pol then answered his verbal one. "There is no such thing as Vulcanesque Gothic style."

Trip shot back with "I don't hold much faith in Vulcan Science Directorate pronouncements, but I really, really, would like to believe in that one." Then he gave T'Pol an appreciative smile accompanied by a two fingered touch on her wrist. "What do you call the style of architecture that predominates in this town? It reminds me of that monastery at P'Jem.

"It is the only pre-Surak style that we continue to build in. That is because it was designed for places of quiet contemplation. We have always had the quiet contemplation element in our culture, even in the ancient eras of great conflict. This style is called 'Public Peace Architecture'. 

"Well, I like that term, whether it is considered logical or not. And whether it is considered efficient or not." 

"We have arrived. T'Sari has off-street parking behind her residence in a parking alley."

Because they were tired, Trip and T'Pol were allowed their hot meal alone in the kitchen. Then Trip took Lizi off to bed while T'Pol joined T'Sari for tea in the sitting room.

….

The next morning when Trip woke, he moved his arm over to T'Pol's side of the bed to find it empty. Scratching his head disheveled his hair even more, so when he looked in a small mirror in the bathroom, it made him think that maybe the Vulcans had something with their pasted-to-the-skull hairstyle. It must be the way it was cut because T'Pol's hair was never one hair out of place, even after a night of wild passion. How did they do that? 

Lizi was awake, happily investigating the ceiling with her eyes. She smiled when she saw her Daddy, so he picked her up. She needed a change. That accomplished, he walked around the bedroom with her in his arms, investigating the room himself now that it was daylight. Not much of a view out the small window. But it was placed so you could see the street a bit, but not much of the neighboring house. He noticed that Vulcan houses had no windows that lined up with the windows of a neighboring house; more evidence of the Vulcan respect for privacy.

Lizi started making discomfort faces. Trip knew what that meant, and he was not the one who could help her now. He was reasonably dressed, so he went out into the hallway and found the stone staircase they had carried their bags up last night. Narrow, but the steps pitched so it would be hard to stumble. The first floor hallway was wider, with several imposing doors. Closed doors were more of a barrier in Vulcan houses than Human ones, and Vulcans did not seem to appreciate the custom of knocking on them. So Trip sat on a bench near the street entrance, bouncing Lizi.

It was his daughter who announced their presence. She liked the bouncing but it was not enough. She was hungry and screwed up her face, filled her lungs with thin Vulcan air, and let loose. This brought T'Pol through one of those closed doors, brows closing toward each other with a wrinkle between them at their base. She reached for her daughter and the nursing shawl Trip had thought to bring with him. Baby attached and suitably covered, she motioned to Trip to follow her into the room. 

Seated at what appeared to be a formal oblong dining table, was the family. It looked more like a tribunal than a meal to Trip. All were in robes of subdued brown, similar in shade but with a decorative edging that varied. Trip wondered if that was rank insignia or just individual esthetic preference. More questions to file away for T'Pol later. The fare looked sparse and unappetizing to a hungry Human. Each person had what looked like a desert plate and a tall interesting blue goblet – a square goblet of semi-transparent glass. 

"Good Morning, Mate of My Cousin." 

Trip looked to see who had said that and a line of bland dark pairs of Vulcan eyes met his own. He would have liked to be looking at the person who spoke to him when he answered, but which was it? With similar dress and hair style, he was not even sure who was male and who was female. It had been a female voice.

"Good morning, everyone," Trip said in Vulcan. Then noting that the chairs on both sides of T'Pol were occupied, he asked "Where may I sit?" There was no immediate answer and he wondered if he should have asked "MAY I sit?"

T'Sari rose and gestured to a chair at the other end of the table. Trip had not seen it as it was hidden by the frame of a rather taller-then-usual male whose build was chunkier than the average Vulcan, not portly, but muscular, from what Trip could see with the loose robe. Trip felt self conscious in his blue jeans and plaid shirt. These were his vacation clothes and T'Pol had said nothing about more formal wear for visiting her relatives. 

Trip sat down and the conversation continued, in Vulcan. Trip followed some of it but was eyeing the serving dishes in the center of the table which were beyond his reach. There was water in his goblet so he took a sip. It had some weak, unidentifiable, but not unpleasant fruity taste. No one noticed, or at least did not acknowledge, his glances at the food. Their faces were either turned to the current speaker or staring straight ahead. 

_T'Pol, has everyone finished eating? Can I ask for someone to pass the food? _

_Trip, no one has eaten yet. The head of clan has not asked for the food to be passed. You are allowed to drink though. It will not be long. And everyone can hear your thoughts here. This is a sub clan of non-touch telepaths._

_Oops. Sorry._

_No apology is necessary,_ Came a chorus of telepathic voices. 

Then the clan head spoke alone. _We do make allowances for guests who are not accustomed to our ways. Please be at ease. _Though only used to the nuances of T'Pol's telepathic voice, the mild amusement in this voice was evident. _ Start the food dishes circulating. We do not leave our guests hungry._

The meal was eaten in silence – both verbal and telepathic. Trip thought the food bland, some kind of hot cereal and a fruit compote. It probably was well balanced for Vulcan and Human nutritional needs. No one hurried, so Trip repressed his usual eat-and-run table manners, only lifting the spoon to his mouth a little after the man to his left did. And he tried to keep his mind thought-free by focusing on daises swaying in the breeze in an image of his Mother's garden back on earth.

The eldest woman at the table finally rose to collect the serving dishes and set them on a sideboard. Then one-by-one, people passed their plates to her and she set those on the sideboard too. A pitcher went round the table, and Trip was glad he was not wearing a robe. There was an elegant way to pour from a pitcher while long sleeves swept up and down and did not knock over any goblets. When the old lady sat down again, there was silence for a minute. 

Then the interrogation began. 


	5. Chapter 5

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Five

The man seated across from Trip clapped one hand over the other once in the I-wish-to-address-you gesture and asked him. "What are your travel plans?"

T'Pol looked at the oldest woman and asked "permission to answer, Eldest?"

When the woman nodded, T'Pol continued "We had planned to spend a week here in Kla-khush'Kahr, then go up into the mountains with the camper. Since it is cooler up there, more like Charles's home world, he will be more comfortable fishing in the mountain streams. We planned to move our campsite every three days. When the month is out, we will return to our Federation staff jobs in Shir'Kahr. But now that we have been involved with the accident last night, we may be staying at least another week here. That is what I had wished to discuss with the family and receive council on."

The large man next to Trip cleared his throat. "Permission to speak, Eldest?"

"Given."

"I see no logic in delaying this mountain seclusion. Whatever has not been taken care of in a couple day's time can wait. Our cousin and her mate could check back with us on their way home and see if all is well or not."

"I concur," said another.

"And I," voiced three more people.

"That is half of us, then. Any objections?" asked the Eldest.

There were none.

"Then I am to understand we are in concurrence or stand silent on objections?"

Again no words.

"So be it. We will assemble here, those that need food and are close at hand, for the mid day meal."

Everyone rose in unison and disbursed out through the hall, out the front door, up the stairs, or into another room. Trip and T'Pol found themselves alone in the hall after a minute.

"What are we doing today?" Trip asked her.

"We will visit a kennel here in Kla-khush'Kahr and one in a nearby town to assess litters for a replacement of the sehlat. If we find a suitable one, we call the boy's family. They will send a representative to inspect the cub, and if he approves, we purchase the cub. Then we take the cub to the local monastery for a priest to mind test the sehlat cub. If a brief meld shows the mind is not diseased, the animal is given the blessing. Then we take it to the Working Sehlat Institute, which fortunately is only fifty miles away, a farm further up in the hills. After that, we pay a formal visit to the boy's family – in visiting robes – and they officially release us from any malicious intent against their clan."

"Wow. They don't really believe that we intentionally hit a pet in the dark, who belongs to a family we didn't even know 12 hours ago?"

"Of course not. This just shows we care. Five thousand years ago, it may have prevented some kind of retaliation, but today it is just a kindness to a small grieving boy."

"Okay. Sure, I understand completely. And it sure as hell will make me feel a lot better about it."

"I knew it would, Trip. I took that into consideration when I offered to do this, although it would not have entered anyone else's mind that either of us needed to do it in order to purge the guilt emotion that we were not supposed to acquire in the first place."

"O…kay, but I guess I never will quite understand that about Vulcans."

In the late afternoon an old camper was climbing further up into the hills. Trip held the cub in his lap while T'Pol drove. She swung into the curves expertly, but the vehicle still swayed enough to make Trip lean to the left around one curve, then straighten, only to lean the other way a half minute later.

"Uh, T'Pol, the one doubled over towel is not enough. I will have to change my jeans again. How much water did you let this little guy have? I thought Vulcans held their water like it was gold plated latinum."

"The cub is not a Vulcan. He is a sehlat."

"Yeah, but I thought all creatures on this planet were environmentally predisposed to conserve water."

"He is. As an adult he will, after his muscular control develops."

"I see. Something like how Lizi will have to learn emotional control because her Vulcan brain has not yet fully developed the neurons that perform this task?"

"Something like that, Trip, yes."

Trip was quiet for a few minutes, then he tried another approach. "Hey, I thought you wanted me to drive in the daytime, so I could develop my driving skills."

T'Pol raised one brow and glanced sideways at Trip. "That is not really what is on your devious Human mind is it, Trip?" And she moved the joy stick in the direction of another long curve. "You want me to share water with you so to speak. Water in MY lap."

"Fair is fair."

"Why is making more then one person uncomfortable, fair?"

"Why do you always have to reconstruct the situation so that it seems illogical? Fair is when people share the discomfort…give each other a break."

"It SEEMS illogical because it IS illogical. Where is the logic of having even more clothes to wash – yours AND mine? If you just endure holding the cub for another half hour, we will be at the trainer's farm and we will only have two pairs of jeans to wash."

Trip sighed. "I could never out talk my mother either."

"I have noticed that."

"Well at least I have good engineering skills. That must be why you decided to actually marry me. Guess I never would make a good diplomat like Jon Archer is now. I actually am surprised you never went for him instead of me. I don't have his kind of smarts. So, it must have been when the Vulcan High Council decided to give me clearance on their most secret warp technology and asked the Federation Council to put me in charge of Federation R&D, that you thought I was worth marrying, eh?"

"No. It was when I noticed that your mother always won the arguments with you that I decided to marry you."

"Huh?! I never, ever, will understand Vulcans!"

"Correction. You never, ever, will understand women."


	6. Chapter 6

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Six

Lizi had mastered the art of sitting up. This freed her hands to explore, which they were now doing. She had them deep in Fluffy's fur. He whimpered whenever she pulled hard, looking to T'Pol or Trip with eyes pleading with them to make the baby stop hurting him. If no one came to his aid, he would lick Lizi's face until she laughed, which made her let go.

Now Lizi became tired and flopped over onto her side. From there she managed to roll onto her stomach, her knees tucked under her and her butt raised. Fluffy licked her back, then her neck and then gently combed a claw through her baby-fine hair. He found no parasites to eat, so he groomed himself and lay down beside her with a huge sehlat sigh.

T'Sari knelt beside the pair, setting her tea on the floor. How peaceful they looked. She had been reluctant to let the sehlat in the house but her mate insisted the child needed her pet. As one of the few Vulcans who had been raised without a sehlat guardian, she was wary of the beasts. The only pets she had as a child were caged birds and caged mice. So she insisted that those were the only pets she would allow her own children, to the sadness of her mate who loved the lumbering, hairy, fanged behemoths.

Tentatively, T'Sari ran her hand over the sehlat's back. It seemed to allow that. But it growled when she touched the baby.

"T'Pol," T'Sari called over her shoulder, "I insist that you lock the beast in your camper when I baby-sit for you tonight. Otherwise the beast will not let me tend to Lizi properly."

Walking into the sitting room with her own tea, T'Pol studied the three of them on the rug. "I will do that. But you realize that Fluffy growls only because he telepathically reads your fear-aggression emotion. He cannot sort it out that you are afraid of him and do not have it in mind to harm the baby. Perhaps if you play with him more, you will relax and he will let you touch her. He already knows that this is your den and that you and I are friends. That is why he does not respond more aggressively to your fear."

T'Sari sighed. "In most things, I have excellent emotional control. But from my early childhood my mother repeated that horrendous story of watching her brother killed and eaten by a wild sehlat on a camping trip. Her touch transferred the sheer terror and helplessness of her remembered five-year-old self to me as a young child. Her impressions were so internalized in my young mind that the priestess-healer could neither purge nor repress them. You do not realize just how much control it has taken to just touch your pet."

"I grieve with you for the loss of your uncle who never got to grow up. And I deeply appreciate your allowing Fluffy into your home. In his way, he appreciates that too. Shall we take our tea out into your lovely garden? You promised some cuttings from your mother's herb plants."

"Yes, of course," said T'Sari, retrieving her tea and rising slowly so she did not disturb the napping pair on the rug.

T'Pol hefted the strap of the woven basket onto her shoulder again. Shopping in a village meant walking and carrying purchases in an expandable bag. In the city, she would have stowed her purchases, one by one, in the cargo area of her vehicle, where it was necessary to drive between the shops she would be visiting. But here, everything was on T'Sari's weekly walking curciut.

They entered the bakery, the door frame blinking blue and a soft chime announcing their presence.

T'Sari turned to take the bag from T'Pol and said "Of course I do some of my own baking, T'Pol, but Stavik's skill produces irresistible akan-kep (exotic bread)." She turned to Stavik with her next remark "Na'shaya, Leipausu ( Greetings, Baker)."

"Na'shaya, T'Sari," Stavik said, stepping out from behind a counter. He gestured expansively at a display. "I have been productive today."

"As my eyes witness." T'Sari inspected the case while Stavik stood still, hands clasped with forearms parallel to the floor.

He waited. T'Sari took her time.

"Adequate, as usual."

The subtle change from seeming lack of expression on Stavik's face would be unnoticeable to a Human, but Stavik, in the Vulcan way, was beaming with satisfaction.

"A sample perhaps?"

T'Sari put a finger to her mouth, lowered it. "A sample would be required, of course."

Stavik gestured to a table nestled in an alcove and retreated behind the case. Soon T'Pol and T'Sari were seated with glasses of water and plates of Vulcan desert cake.

"Would your Honored Guest wish to take samples back to her home city?"

"I would," T'Pol replied.

When Stavik went off to aid another customer, T'Sari leaned foreword and whispered "Stavik would like to expand his business to Shir'Kahr where his son now lives. If he can show his son evidence of a customer base there, he thinks he can get his son to quit his employment in garbage disposal and come back into the family business."

"I wish him luck," said T'Pol. "Perhaps I will have a small gathering at our home in the suburbs of Shir'Kahr and inform my guests of the source of my bakery."

"Take care. If you mention you are planning such a gathering, Stavik will load down your camper so that you will have to hold the baby and the sehlat in your laps."

When they left the bakery, T'Pol and T'Sari explored the linen shop, the pharmacist, and what might be called a hardware store if this was on earth. The families of the proprietors lived in apartments above the first floor businesses. T'Sari's bag became heavy with purchases, so they climbed down to the public garden that hung over a ravine carved into the hillside by an ancient river. The steps here were natural shelves of bedrock.

In a grotto, slabs of rock overhung and shaded small areas, almost like caves. Here, there were placed benches and tables of a terrazzo-like material . Water pumps had been fitted in the center of the tables, connected to pipes that ran back to the edge of the cliff and along it to connect to the village's water supply. These water pumps with their long quaint iron handles were ancient. They were hand pumps like the one in Trip's family's lake cottage back on earth. Trip had told her how in 1899, when the original cottage was built, it was a marvelous luxury to have the pump inside the kitchen rather than outside on the lawn. The Human sense of history was deep, when you considered the shortness of their generations.

They ended their tour by spending fifteen minutes meditating in the local monastic temple, where T'Pol was treated by a monk to a view of an ancient sehlat-hide notebook which was said to be the copybook of a student of Surak.

As Trip undressed for bed that night, he said to his mate: "T'Pol, you are having such a good time with T'Sari, I hate to see it ending so soon. How about we ask her along on the camping trip? Her own children are half grown and away for the summer."

"How prophetic. I was going to ask you if it was alright if she came with us. Her mate cannot attend her much at this time because of a trip he must make to Shir'Kahr for business. I was thinking she would be lonely when we left."

"Go ask her now, she probably is not asleep yet," said Trip yawning and climbing into bed. "But don't stay up all night talking again. I heard a rumor that Vulcans sometimes need sleep too. Besides, I sleep better with you next to me."


	7. Chapter 7

Note: Forgot to thank my betas! They are Blacknblue (going by Bluenblack on this site?) and Firewolf. This chapter has a violent description of a child dying. I hope that does not put anyone off - it's T'Sari's mother's memory. But the banter between Trip and T'Pol continues.

Are We There Yet? 

Chapter Seven

"Are we there yet?" Teased Trip as T'Pol studied the map.

"Do you not get tired of repeating that childish phrase?" she asked.

"It's a tradition. Lizzie and I would sit in the back seat and exasperate our parents with it. She would say it and five minutes later she would elbow me and I would say it. Then we would have a fit of giggles."

"You are not giggling now. You are not following the tradition."

"It would be silly for an adult male to giggle."

"It would not be any more silly than repeating that phrase."

Trip sighed. "I was just trying to pass the time, T'Pol. Just trying put a little fun into our vacation."

"Fun for me is observing the passing scenery in quietude."

"Sorry, I will shut up now. Maybe when Lizi gets older she will appreciate that phrase when we…"

T'Pol interrupted with "Not if you value your adopted home world, your marriage, and possibly even your life."

"Geez, T'Pol, get a grip on. Look, I really am just trying for some fun here."

T'Pol touched Trip's arm. "I guess my attempts at humor are not succeeding any better than yours, Thy'la. We are indeed 'not there yet'."

In the back seat T'Sari gripped the padd tightly, trying to concentrate on her novel. It wasn't Trip's driving that made her tense because he was taking the curves as smoothly as a native. It wasn't T'Pol with her fascinating stories of experiences on Enterprise, though some of those were enough to disquiet any Vulcan. Nor was it the baby who needed attention now and then, which logically had been T'Sari's responsibility as she was sitting further back in the camper, with the baby right beside her. No, T'Sari was trying valiantly to retain her Vulcan calm with Fluffy's paw sprawled over her feet.

The Sehlat was oblivious to T'Sari's discomfort because he was fast asleep. He occasionally snorted and brushed his nose against her ankle which sent waves of fear though her. Those fangs could rip through her flesh and snap her ankle bone in a flash. She knew that because she had seen it done.

T'Sari's mother's experience played out again in her mind as if it was her own. T'Sari became the girl who sat paralyzed on that cliff ledge while her little brother ran toward her screaming for her to help him. The huge beast gaining ground behind him had bitten his foot off at the ankle. Semik had tried to keep running, blood pumping from his maimed leg. But he fell and the sehlat opened its mouth with those terrible fangs and grabbed him by the head. It sharply shook Semik so that his neck snapped and his body went limp. T'Sari thought: _It was quick. He is at peace._

But he wasn't at peace yet. T'Sari could not take her eyes off the horrible sight of her brother being devoured by the hungry sehlat. First the legs, ripped off and chewed a few times and then swallowed. And then it went for Semik's belly with the green blood pouring out and spreading thickly on the sand. As the sehlat took a huge bite and T'Sari heard ribs crack, Semik's eyes opened in absolute terror and he screamed…her name…no, her mother's name. She had almost come to him then, almost jumped from her safe perch. But she didn't jump. She stayed on the ledge. Her father later told her that she had done the most logical thing. He praised her logic in realizing the Semik's situation was hopeless. Her only brother. Her only sibling…no, her uncle. Her own brother was alive and well and grown to manhood. T'Sari had trouble not owning her mother's dream, especially now with her mother three and a half years dead.

Guilt is a shameful emotion, as all emotions are a great shame to Vulcans. And it could be passed down the generations - the dark side of eidetic memory. T'Sari possessed her mother's guilt. Or rather, guilt possessed T'Sari, even after repression by the priestesses' ministrations and the passage of time. It haunted her. Taunted her, as did this sehlat carelessly invading her space with its ugly big hairy paw. But to complain to T'Pol would be to admit to the emotion. So T'Sari kept quiet and repressed her emotion so T'Pol could not telepathically detect it…all the way from Kla-khush'Kahr to their camp site.

They set up camp by a swiftly running stream which Trip remarked must contain half the water on Vulcan. The two woman exchanged significant glances and informed him that the river was at its height this time of year and was not very deep. The fish in it had a ventral fin which could dig into the stream bed to hold them in place.

They unrolled a long awning from the side of the camper and dug a fire pit for the grating that T'Pol set over it. T'Sari placed stools around the fire pit that she extracted from the storage compartment at the back of the camper. She and T'Pol then sat by the pit as Trip laid kindling and charcoal that they had brought with them. The charcoal had been expensive, having been imported from earth. T'Pol set a black bowl between her and T'Sari on a stool and began to crush some dried leaves into it. Then T'Sari threw in some dried berries, whispering softly to T'Pol about them. Their heads were almost touching as they hunched over the bowl.

"What's that?" asked Trip coming around the fire pit to peer into the bowl containing the mixture. Then he lifted one arm in an actor's posture and began to recite:

"Round about the cauldron go;  
In the poison'd entrails throw.  
Toad, that under cold stone  
Days and nights has thirty-one  
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,  
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot."

T'Pol looked up at Trip in surprise. "I didn't know you could quote Shakespeare."

"Surprised you, huh? Not quite the complete illiterate engineer you thought you married?"

"I am impressed," T'Pol muttered. "But I would have preferred not to be thought of as some Vulcan witch about to cast a spell over a rival clan on some ancient battle field. However, I understand how seeing me and T'Sari huddled over a three legged black bowl and muttering, might project that image."

"So what ARE you two doing?"

T'Sari's eyes danced in amusement. "Well, it is an ancient recipe. You throw bits of this mixture on the fire and it is a not unpleasant smell to Vulcans, but it repulses sehlats and other wild creatures. You might want to shut Fluffy in the camper and run the air conditioner, or he might run off half a mile or more to get away from our fire pit this evening."

"Thy'la, how about charming us with some more Shakespeare quotes?" T'Pol requested eagerly, her hands now quietly resting on her knees – all set to stop working and be entertained.

Trip's face fell. "Sorry, Sweetheart. That was the only one I know. We were forced to memorize it in eighth grade English class. I…think I…might just go try to catch a few fish for dinner now."

T'Sari and T'Pol looked at each eyebrows raised, lips pasted together – the Vulcan equivalent of spontaneous laughter.

The wind came up a bit that night. It could be heard in the few tenacious trees clinging to the steep mountain rising above them. The landscape took on a menacing aspect, boulders looming beyond the friendliness of the fire in the pit. T'Sari held the black bowl and tossed herbs into the fire every few minutes. Trip sat on the ground so he could rest his back against a Stool. T'Pol had the nursing shawl draped over her shoulders though the baby was asleep in the camper with Fluffy.

Trip regarded his wife's face in the flickering firelight on the other side of the pit. "T'Pol, your mention of witches and clans and battlefields this afternoon stuck in my mind. Were there clan wars around here in ancient times?"

T''Pol leaned closer to the fire, cupping her hands around a mug of tea. "Thy'la, there were clan wars over every square foot of Vulcan. T'Sari, you must know something of the local legends, having grown up in these hills."

"Well," said T'Sari, sitting up straighter, "there is the saying that the streams in this region often ran green. And I am not referring to fish scat. In ancient times, it was mostly men who fought over hunting grounds. They had their lirpas and carried a shield of light weight metal that floated. The shield was the length of their body. It was insulated to act as a covering at night or as a boat to go swiftly down stream on. But if they were killed near a stream that ran down through their home village below, their bodies would be tied onto their shields. Then they would be put in the stream and sent home. There was always a woman standing watch where a stream passed a village so any bodies sent home would be collected before they swept down to rot in the swamp at the edge of the desert below."

The hairs on the back of Trip's neck stood up. "Uh, great story, T'Sari. It certainly would scare the shit out of the kids at any boy scout encampment I ever went to."

"That is no story, Trip. And worse things happened around here. Some probably happened right where we are sitting."

The scream of a dying animal punctuated T'Sari's last statement.

"That must be only a mile or two away," observed T'Pol.

After an uneasy pause, Trip said "That does it. I am ready for bed. How about you two?"

They put out the fire and locked themselves in the camper for the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Eight

The early morning sun beat on the camper which made the inside of it overly warm for the sleepers. First awake was Lizi who wanted her milk and her whimpers woke Fluffy who thrust his nose against T'Sari's belly. T'Sari yelped which brought Trip and T'Pol to instant Starfleet readiness, their disheveled heads breaking wide-eyed out of quilted comforters. The sunlight made them amused at the primal mood which had come over them the night before, huddled around a camp fire listening to Vulcan ghost stories. With the penetrating rays of the morning sun, the shadows and ghosts that had crept in on the campsite the night before seemed to dissipate like the fog from the low places among the hills.

T'Sari fed the begging sehlat so he would keep his furry presence to himself for awhile. When she opened the door to let out the accumulating heat, a red fur ball burst out of the camper door to go do sehlat business in the bushes that surrounded their campsite. This steep hillside was positively lush for Vulcan, a touch of home for Trip, but this verdant pocket of life on a desert planet made desert born Vulcans uneasy, suspicious that it wasn't quite…well…Vulcan.

T'Pol stretched one arm while the other held the baby against her breast. T'Sari kept bumping her knee into Trip's leg as she stood at the food prep area making breakfast. A step and a half in any direction brought her up against something or someone. Trip made contortions to slip into a T-shirt without elbowing his camper mates.

"Today while Trip does some fishing, why don't we hike further up into the hills, T'Sari? Being shut in a camper and driving for several days has left me itching for open spaces and some exercise"

"That would an adequate activity, T'Pol," said T'Sari, "the only exercise I have had lately is shopping in the village. I have a sedentary job and rahket-dukal-torvukh (tennis) league is over, not starting up again for another month. Actually, a hike can also be a useful activity as there are four kinds of mountain teas growing in this area. We can take gathering bags."

"Take weapons, too," Trip interjected. "I didn't like the sound of that thing which screamed and died in the night."

"It will not scream any more, Trip. It is dead," said T'Pol. "But your suggestion to take weapons is logical."

Trip slipped on his jeans with his hips and legs under the comforter. "Yeah, T'Pol, it is dead, but what ever killed it is alive and kicking and probably healthier for having eaten."

"Noted. If you are finished dressing, take the baby while I go outside the camper so I have room to dress without jabbing someone in the ribs."

At midday, T'Pol was scanning the land from their perch on an overhang. The flat rock had been their lunch spot where T'Sari had laid out sealed cups of soup and some of that delightful bread from the bakery. By just setting their cups in the sun, they had made tea from leaves picked from the morning's foraging.

"In another hour, we should return to the camper or find shelter from the height of the day's heat under some bushes. I can spread one heat dissipation blanket on the bushes over us and we can sit on the other blanket," Suggested T'Pol. "I see a place about .58 of a mile downhill that looks adequate."

"Acceptable. Lizi can sleep off her lunch."

"She has been sleeping in her backpack most of the morning. My walking pace has been lulling her to sleep. She may want to crawl around a little so she does not get fidgety during the descent back to the campsite. I presume Trip has caught a fresh dinner for us. "

"If he has not, we can always break camp and go into one of the mountain hamlets. Guest tradition is strong around here, so we will be fed."

"And the baby passed around to be examined like she was the clan's most important acquisition of the year? I would rather just throw something in the microwave in the camper."

T'Sari's eyes seemed to laugh under a raised eyebrow. "So you want to avoid the natives? I seem to have disquieted you with my stories last night. The contemplation of the writings of Surak has actually penetrated these hinterlands over the last millennia or so, T'Pol. No one will attempt to barter for acquisition of your child."

"I am not worried about the local people, T'Sari, I just would rather enjoy the solitude of our campsite. There is a collection of book pads and logic game pads in the camper if the solitude becomes empty. I am less concerned about the local Vulcan population than I am about the local wildlife. I think I heard something following us through the bushes on the way up."

"That most likely was your Fluffy. I did not let him back into the camper before we left and he always stays close to Lizi. Probably enjoying a hunt for mice while he keeps an eye on us."

"You are most likely correct. Let us start back down now."

They had descended only an eighth of a mile when sounds of something large paralleling their course made them stop short to listen. When they stopped, so did the noise.

T'Sari with her knowledge of these hills she grew up in, was becoming uneasy. "We are going directly back to the camper, T'Pol. Something is hunting us, not just watching us."

"T'Pol touched her sleeping daughter's cheek. "Right, she whispered. "You lead."

They quickened their pace, trying to silence their footfalls. Halfway across an open space, the attack came. Both women pulled laser pistols out but a shaggy dark mound knocked T'Pol to the ground before she could fire. T'Sari hesitated, trying to aim without hitting T'Pol or the baby. Before she could fire, a blur of red fur shot past her, knocking the pistol out of her hand and pouncing on top of the dark form. There was a vicious growl. Dark brown fur and red rolled off T'Pol and the baby. Two large interlocked animals struggled as they tumbled down the steep hillside through weeds and rocks. The fight was so furious that the work of claws and fangs could only be noted by yelps of pain and snarls of anger. There was a sharp scream. The dark form reared up, taking huge limping leaps toward the bushes. Then it was gone.

A red heap of fur lay in the weeds below them. They ran down to it, stopping a few feet short in trepidation.

"It is Fluffy," TPol squeezed out, short of breath.

T'Sari knelt where the wounded sehlat could see her while T'Pol checked Lizi over. The baby, wrapped tight in her backpack was wide-eyed and trembling with fear, but unharmed.

"He has a deep wound and the bleeding must be stopped immediately!" T'Sari looked up in alarm. "I think I can do it." She reached to push back fur from the wound and the sehlat growled at her. She swiftly withdrew her hand and looked to T'Pol for help.

"Fluffy calm. Fluffy cease movement." T'Pol knelt by the sehlat's head and he looked at her with pleading, pain-filled eyes. "You are a trained healer, T'Sari. You must stop the bleeding while I hold the pistol. That wild sehlat will be back when he senses our protector is incapacitated. We need Trip to help us carry Fluffy to the campsite."

With her free hand, T'Pol snapped open her com unit. "Trip, come immediately to coordinates 49' 16'' 08N, 35' 14'' 03W. Come with the camper emergency litter and your laser pistol in hand, set on kill. There is a wounded wild sehlat stalking us. We are unharmed as yet but Fluffy is down."

She then set her com unit on a Vulcan emergency locator setting and stood up to stand watch.


	9. Chapter 9

Note: Well, because someone seemed upset (the spam reviews), I thought I would put the rest of the story up now so readers could see that it has a happy ending. I hope you like it and I do plan to write more stories about Trip, T'Pol, Lizi, and Fluffy.

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Nine

An hour of staring at the bushes and turning toward every sound had taken its toll on T'Pol. When Trip burst out of the bushes, she had him dead in the pistol sight, despite knowing through their bond that he was close. She lowered the pistol slowly.

"Geez, T'Pol, the look on your face!"

"It is good to see you." And she indicated with a flick of her head, where Fluffy and T'Sari were half hidden by scrubby weeds. Direct pressure to the wound had stopped the bleeding but the puncture wound was deep, and from the glazed look in Fluffy's eyes – extremely painful. Yet he made no move to bite T'Sari; he didn't even growl at her.

T'Sari got through each moment, attuned to the sehlat as she felt his breathing rhythm through her hands on the wound. Periodically she felt under his neck fur for a pulse, which was weakening.

Trip and T'Pol had lain down their weapons for half a minute to lift Fluffy onto the litter meant for a Vulcan. His body hung over both sides of it, but he could be carried. They had just picked up their weapons again, turning back to back in a circle scanning the brush, when the motor of a hovercraft reached their ears. They had dropped the weapons again and hurriedly threw rocks to the side while tramping down weeds in a relatively flat space. T'Sari picked up a pistol, but kept glancing down to check the sehlat's wound for renewed bleeding.

They had sent an animal ambulance hovercraft from the Working Sehlat Institute. Between Trip, T'Pol, T'Sari, and two animal healer aides, they slide a regular sehlat litter under the camper one, and lifted Fluffy into the hovercraft. When the hovercraft was only two feet in the air, Trip, T'Pol, and T'Sari started back down to the camper, alert to every sound in the brush. Lizi had stopped trembling long ago and kept falling in and out of fitful napping mode. She did not fuss for milk until they were driving away. They had packed up quickly, throwing things haphazardly into the camper. Trip glanced longingly at the fishing stream for half a second before taking the driver's seat. It took them two and a half hours to reach the sehlat farm.

Fluffy was a limp shaggy form on a surgical table when they entered the animal hospital. The fur was shaved off half of his side around the wound and it was bandaged with a stretchy band that circled his wide girth. He had a cone on his neck to keep him from getting at the wound with his mouth when he woke up. Animal healer aides were preparing to move him to a recovery area, so T'Sari, Trip, and T'Pol holding Lizi, flattened themselves against a wall to be out of the way as the litter was lifted. They followed through corridors which lead from the hospital building to another building where large cages lined the walls of a dormitory with low lighting and the temperature set to desert night normal.

Before they locked his cage, T'Sari approached the sedated sehlat and ran her hand along his head. "You did well, shaggy one. I will let you rest your paw on my foot anytime now."

Having seen to Fluffy's condition, the campers were allowed to park their vehicle in an area where there were water and power hookups. Families often came to the farm to live while their sehlats were completing their training, so they could learn from the trainers how to work with their pets. Although they were back in semi-civilized Vulcan, Trip was informed that there was a stream running through the farm and he would be allowed to fish it. T'Pol arranged camp chairs under the camper awning and planned to spend some days in recreational reading. T'Sari had other plans.

When the healer's aid noted T'Sari's concern for Fluffy, he had reported it to the farm's manager. The manager, T'Gig, invited T'Sari to watch and even participate in some of the training which was in progress at the farm. There were sehlats being trained as the ears, as well as the eyes of their future patrons. Also, some were being trained to retrieve items around the homes of people who could not walk. Then there was the usual training for babysitting young children, which was a kind of basic training that all the sehlats got.

T'Sari was fascinated by this. She had heard that sehlats were trained in various ways, but had never considered the implications of this or the true intelligence of the animals. Fear is a funny thing. It blinds people to the good qualities of a person or an animal. T'Sari began to loose her fear over the next three weeks as she observed and participated in the training while Trip fished and T'Pol read.

In their second week there, another camper had arrived and T'Pol felt a bit uneasy, for this was the family of the blind boy whose sehlat had died under the wheels of the camper she had been driving. They parked at the far end of the hookup area, Vulcans being prone to extreme privacy. T'Pol avoided them for half a day, and then walked over to exchange greetings with the only other campers at the farm.

"Greetings. I hope that the training of your new cub is going well?" T'Pol enquired politely.

A woman seated at a camp table under the awning of the camper looked up. "I remember you. Go away."

T'Pol was taken aback, for this was very rude for a Vulcan, even one who has received a great wrong. "Please excuse me for disturbing you," T'Pol said stiffly and walked away quickly to go find Trip.

"What's bothering you, sweetheart," asked Trip before T'Pol even lowered herself to the grassy stream bank. "I felt you startle a few moments ago."

"The family of the blind boy has arrived. There is an open emotional wound in them and I am the cause."

"We are the cause. You do not bear this alone." Trip put his arm around her shoulder and drew her against him, tending his fishing tackle with his other hand. "Hey, they only just arrived, right? I'll bet when they see what a great little guy we picked out for them, they will come round. It was an accident. Are they not taking any responsibility for the accident seeing they let their pet run out in the road in the first place?"

T'Pol sighed and sagged against Trip. He was such a comfort to her and came up with the most amazing logic when she needed to hear it. This was how her mother said her own father was when as a child they had sat in the garden in their home, missing him. T'Les would tell her of the good times that T'Pol had been too young to remember, explaining what life with a good mate was all about. And one day, T'Pol would see this for herself. How right her mother was…that is…when you found your true mate. She highly doubted whether Koss had the capacity to comfort her the way Trip did. There was just something about Human males… She thought she could even see that in the way Malcolm treated Hoshi, though she observed that relationship from the distance of Vulcan discretion.

"Let's give it a few days. Then we will go together to say howdy to those people, okay?" asked Trip.

T'Pol's answer was to lay down on the grass with her head in his lap. She soon drifted off to sleep under the hot Vulcan sun.

Several days later, Fluffy bounded up to the camper, eyes bright and free of pain. The bandage was gone and his hair was growing back. It was short and stuck straight out from his side, all bristly like a man's new beard. When he sat down and raised a back foot to scratch at the almost healed wound, T'Sari unselfconsciously slapped his foot down.

"No, bad boy."

He looked at her with sad eyes, but she showed him the treat she had laying flat in her hand. He daintily took it, the tip of a wet tongue touching her palm and warm breath tingling the wet spot on her hand. He swallowed. Then he licked her face. Then he pushed her backwards so she was flat on her back while he gave her a thorough face and neck wash. She giggled and dug her hands into his fur, not noticing that his hind foot was again scratching his almost-healed wound.

Sehlats are not stupid and sometimes practice a bit of deviousness.

Matak stood in the fenced workout area and called to Echo. The cub sat a few yards away, looking cute, but not responding. T'Sari watched the trainer, a dark skinned Vulcan man, shake his head and prompt the boy "Call him again. Firmly."

Trip and T'Pol had come up to the fence quietly. Trip had his head resting on his arms on the top fence bar and commented to T"Pol "Sehlat whisperer".

"Whisperer? But the boy is being asked to give commands more loudly. Whispering does not work with sehlats. Take Fluffy as a cub for example. Didn't you name him after that three headed dog in some Human magical story? You said that if he had three heads, he would have three sets of ears to hear you with. Then you could get his attention better?"

"You win, Sweetheart. Sehlet shouter. That is what this trainer is."

The trainer nodded to T'Sari who stepped into the enclosure next to Matak. She leaned down and talked quietly to the boy. He nodded and called to Echo again. The cub took a step, then four leaps and sat down again in front of Matak who reached out a hand and patted his head. Matak closed his unseeing eyes and his face perceptively softened. Then he squatted down and buried his face in Echo's chest fur.


	10. Chapter 10

Note: I am using another term new to me here, which I picked up from the Triaxian Silk board from T'Poptarts: cagemate.

Are We There Yet?

Chapter Ten

The family was assembled for dinner in the dining room. Again, everyone had on the clan's signature brown robe, with trim on the sleeves and hem being the only sign of individual preference. T'Sari's aunts had been busy sewing to her specifications while she was away camping with Trip and T'Pol. As a result, both Trip and T'Pol were now suitably garbed to blend in with the rest of the clan. Trip only knocked over one goblet with a sleeve but managed to keep both his sleeves out of the plomeek soup and the condiment sauce.

"I will venture to say your mother's house will be a welcome place to return to after the restrictions of that camper," said T'Sari to T'Pol.

"Undoubtedly. Sharing the camper with you, Trip, and Lizi-Les was tight enough, but with Fluffy it became an exercise in contortion," T'Pol responded.

"Oh, Fluffy is not a bad cagemate," T'Sari's eyes sparkled. "You could always leave him here if the rest of the trip with him would be too much."

Trip grinned "From such a dubious beginning, you and Fluffy have become bosom companions."

"Yes, we have. I know I will miss him, so I came up with a plan."

"What is that, T'Sari?" asked T'Pol with the whole table full of relatives, including T'Sari's children who had returned, gazing at her with great expectation."

"Later, after dinner, you all will see."

When all were assembled in the sitting room later, the door chime rang. T'Sari escorted visitors into the room. Matak and his parents walked in with dignity, in formal visiting robes, Matak carrying a spotted sehlat cub. His mother steered him toward T'Sari's pre-teen children. He stopped before them and held out the cub.

"For us?" asked T'Rani.

"Yes." Said Matak.

"Go ahead, take him," T'Sari encouraged her daughter.

"But Mother, you cannot tolerate…"

"It is alright now, My Daughter. I am quite content with the idea of a sehlat in the house."

T'Rani took the cub.

"Tea anyone?" asked T'Sari, turning to the drinks table.

While a low buzz of conversation filling the room, people mingled with tea cups in hand. A woman approached T'Pol and stood quietly until T'Pol turned and noticed her.

"Greetings," said the woman. "My son and I understand you have a brave sehlat who protected your family at the risk of his own life. In our family sehlats are of great help and are honored as members of the family. Since we admire yours, here is a gift for him."

The woman handed T'Pol a jeweled collar with Fluffy's name engraved on a brass plate attached to it.

"I accept this gift of great esteem in the name of our honored family member." T'Pol took the collar and bowed.

The woman nodded and walked away, disappearing behind the green robes of others of her family. Trip finished his conversation with the tall Vulcan he had sat next to at their first breakfast in this house and approached T'Pol.

"I thought she wasn't talking to us and we had a sort of cold war clan conflict going on here."

"It seems T'Sari has fixed that. But we probably will not be on their guest list any time soon. A gift to a clan member, even OF a sehlat or TO a sehlat, is as good as an apology for rudeness as we are likely to get while they are still grieving for their lost sehlat. As friends with their clan, we are not there yet. But as a family you, me, and T'Sari certainly have arrived.


End file.
